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Chan's roaming hands slip under his shirt, the skin of his palms slightly colder than Changbin's heated torso. The touch makes a shiver run down his spine, pushing him deeper into Chan’s hold, his back against Chan’s front. The older man’s hands move higher, taking Changbin’s shirt with him as he goes, rucking up to his midsection as his searching fingers find their target.
Slowly warming fingers circle the sensitive skin around Changbin’s nipples, a purposefully teasing touch which has him whining immediately. Chan smiles into his neck, lips ghosting over the exposed skin. Changbin squirms, complaints lined up on his tongue, needing more already.
He's lucky Chan seems to know him so well because he doesn't even have to say anything for Chan's hands to move again, teasing touch turned enveloping. Chan's palms cover Changbin's chest easily and he wastes no time in squeezing, grip firm as it presses Changbin’s cleavage together, the flesh almost touching in the middle of his chest. The feeling of being manhandled in such a way loosens another whine from his mouth, head falling back to land on Chan’s shoulder. He can’t help the way he squirms in his grasp, Chan’s hands gripping his tits hard, pressing down, circling them, then gripping again. It’s relentless, the way Chan touches him, as if he can’t get enough of it.
“Your body,” he hears Chan murmur into the juncture between Changbin’s neck and shoulder. “Y—Your fucking, your body. It’s so—” As if to illustrate his point wordlessly, he grips harder, firmer, almost bruising. Changbin moans outright, hips pressing back into Chan’s, feeling the obvious hardness there.
He may be half-gone due to Chan’s very targeted ministrations but he still has enough sense to grind back into Chan with purpose, making a slow circle with his hips.
Chan groans, teeth sinking into the skin he’s just murmured into, rough teeth accentuated by rougher hands, pressing Changbin impossibly closer.
“Fuck,” Chan says, one of his hands moving down to grip at Changbin’s hips, to keep him steady as he grinds up.
“Yeah?” Changbin breathes. It’s the most coherent he can be in such a state. “Yeah, hyung?”
“Yeah,” Chan answers. His hand moves from Changbin’s hip to the front of his pants, cupping him through the fabric. The touch makes him jolt, makes him grind harder into Chan’s lap, the both of them moaning in tandem.
“So hot,” Chan says, palming him deliberately, the hand on his chest gripping him like his life depends on it.
Changbin can’t help the frustrated whine that leaves his lips. “Hyung, can you— can you touch me already?”
Chan hums a little too passively for his liking, a sound which makes him think he’s been heard but won’t be listened to. He’s on the verge of another, more frustrated sound when Chan moves, knowing him better than he knows himself. His hand slips past the waistband of his loose joggers, wasting no time as he grips him without pretense.
It’s too dry, makes Changbin hiss, the discomfort lessening as Chan retracts his hand and brings it up to Changbin’s mouth. They’re well rehearsed at this by now, no words needed for Changbin to know what he’s asking for. He spits into Chan’s palm, hears the other man make a light noise at the act. Chan moves back down, his movements now mercifully smoother as he goes, touching Changbin in the way he likes: fast, no holds barred, enough to drive him out of his mind in seconds.
Changbin can’t keep himself still once Chan starts, his hands moving from Chan’s knees, up to his thighs, back down again as he gives punched out little moans, a rhythm of soft ah, ah, ah’s filling the room and accentuating the dirtier, unmistakable sound of a hand moving on a cock.
The other hand, the one on his chest, tightens its grip, playing with the soft skin, pushing it around roughly, making Changbin’s eyes roll back into his head.
“Ch—” He barely gets out the beginning of Chan’s name before he feels himself tense, a moan rolling off his lips.
If the smile he presses into Changbin’s neck is anything to go by, Chan can feel it too.
“Yeah, just like that,” Chan murmurs, lips trailing to Changbin’s ear. “Yeah, come on.”
His orgasm slams into him roughly, hips stuttering into Chan’s unrelenting hand, pleasure heightened by the way Chan pinches his nipple before going back to holding his chest, grip going soft as Changbin comes.
When he finally finishes riding it out, he slumps back into Chan, chest heaving. Chan retracts his hand, setting it away from the both of them and onto the bed, careful not to get cum stains on the sheets.
The hand on his chest wanders now, the touch so much softer than before. A soothing one, bringing him down from such an intense high. Changbin catches his breath as he feels Chan kiss down his neck gently, all urgency gone from his movements. Changbin can still feel how hard he is behind him but he knows Chan well enough by now that he won’t ask for it. He would never push, never imply.
He hums softly, feeling a deep contentment settle into him. He’ll get to return the favor soon enough— but for now, he basks in the soft attention, his afterglow accentuated by the pure warmth he feels for the man behind him.